


Can't Get You Out Of My Head

by Interrobang



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bodyswap, F/F, First Time, Hot Tub Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29677932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: A magical relic switches Beau and Yasha's souls into each other's bodies. They make the best of it.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 12
Kudos: 175





	Can't Get You Out Of My Head

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't very well go the entirety of Femmeslash February without posting SOMETHING for my girls!

Beau was sick of magical bullshit. She was _especially_ sick of magical bullshit that directly fucked with her life and the lives of her friends.

They’d been in the ghost city on the edges of Xhorhas, meaning only to gather any artifacts that might be of use to the Kryn. They’d already had to fight off a few spectral creatures, each creepier in the last.

This particular place appeared to be a temple of some sort. It had obviously been used for some kind of beacon-related ritual; there were dodecahedrons engraved all over the crumbling walls, their once-gilded surfaces sparkling dustily in the conjured light. As they walked through, a theme became apparent: all the art on the walls depicted sets of couples facing each other, the figures holding up offerings or clasping hands over a stylized beacon design.

It was there, in the center of a dais in the deepest room of the temple, that they’d found the glass dodecahedron floating serenely as if waiting to be used. Upon inspection it was very strange indeed, vaguely beacon-shaped but smoothed about the edges like seaglass. It lacked the swirling internal light and mystique of the beacons as well, though it gave off a faint hum.

“Our best bet is to take it to an artificer, though... perhaps Essek would know something about it?” Caleb mused as he circled it.

“What if it’s useful, though?” Jester pointed out. “What if it’s an early version of a beacon or something?

“Let’s not risk messing with it,” Fjord said decisively. “We’ll just hold on to it for now. Let the Dynasty figure it out.”

Still, that didn’t stop the Nein from futzing around with it a bit in an attempt to identify it. It really didn’t _seem_ evil. It didn’t even change color or anything when Beau and Jester curiously poked it with gloved hands. It just continuously hovered wherever it was placed, and it was easy to gently push it in someone else’s direction, playing a slow game of catch. Kind of fun too, when Jester made a whole elaborate game out of trying to score points using other people as goalposts.

Back at the house, Beau continued to stare at the relic’s translucent surface as she disarmed for the night. Most of the others had already shuffled off to their rooms to relax, but Beau had lagged behind for a moment, not sure she wanted to let the thing out of her sight entirely.

Yasha, too, remained behind. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” Yasha commented as she tilted her head at the floating figure. “Kind of pretty, though.”

“We’ll ask Essek about it tomorrow,” Beau said with a shrug. “We probably shouldn’t just let it float in the foyer, though.” She reached out carefully to grab the relic, intending to move it to hover ominously in the corner of the study instead of hovering ominously by the front door, but as soon as her hands touched it it _pulsed._ Beau and Yasha both froze as the dull hum that it had been emanating rose to a singing buzz, a warm, peachy coral light starting to glow from within its center.

Beau suddenly realized she wasn’t wearing any gloves.

Magic was _bullshit._

“Yasha,” Beau hissed, frozen in place as the relic cheerfully pulsed in her hands. Magic bullshit always seemed to be able to sense movement. She was going to be pissed if she’d just accidentally activated a bomb in their house. It wasn’t even theirs, really! They were just not-renting it from the Thelysses!

“Does it feel different?” Yasha asked carefully. “Like...like it’s going to, um, explode or anything?”

Beau squeezed it lightly, unable to help herself. “It’s warm?”

“Is it getting hotter?”

Beau stood stock still, staring intensely at the thing. “...No?” she said after a moment. “I don’t think so.” Slowly, she untensed her muscles, carefully straightening her spine. “It’s like holding a hot cup of tea. That’s shaking. And glowing.” She paused. “Maybe not like holding tea, actually.”

“Weird,” Yasha said with a tilt of her head. “It doesn’t _look_ like it’s evil. Evil magic is usually purple, right? Or that creepy green...” She squinted at it, lifting a hand to inspect it closer. “What happens if I…”

As soon as Yasha’s palm made contact with the surface of the relic there was a blinding flash and a huge shockwave of force, knocking both of them away like ragdolls. Fuck, Beau thought as she was thrown backwards, of _course_ evil magic wasn’t _color-coded._ They should have gotten Cad to dispel the magic on it after all.

She slammed her eyes shut as she hit the ground, breath knocked out of her as she landed flat on her back. Her ears rung, head spinning a little bit from the impact.

When her breath came back to her and her ears stopped ringing, she realized the background hum of the glass relic was gone, leaving only midnight silence in its wake. Fucking creepy. Beau could not state how bullshit magic was right at this moment.

 _“Shit…”_ she hissed, just to make sure she still could. Her voice sounded weirdly muted, as if she hadn’t had much of an occasion to speak lately. She cleared her throat, trying again. “Fuck, that hurt.” It _still_ sounded weird. Ugh, why did she feel so slow? Fucking magic, man.

She opened her eyes, blinking against the prickling lights in the corners of her vision. When the stars cleared away, she saw the relic was on the floor only about a foot away, once more a dull, cloudy grey.

“Yasha, you good?” Beau asked, slowly sitting up. She could hear shouts from around the house, the clattering of footsteps as the rest of the Nein began to make their way down to where they were. She squinted— there was a form on the floor across the room, but it didn’t look like Yasha. She tensed: had they summoned something? That was almost _worse_ than an explosion.

Except... the body now slowly sitting up looked familiar, but not. Like a really weird, really distorted mirror. Beau frowned, unsteadily climbing to her feet.

“Beau?” her own body asked, though her voice was now lilting and soft. “Are you okay?”

“Holy _crap,”_ Beau muttered. “Yasha?” She whirled around, noting that she felt unreasonably tall. Her hair was so long, too, and loose, and—

There, the mirror in the front hall. So often used to check that they were presentable before leaving the house, now it showed Beau what appeared to be Yasha, stalking forward now with the swagger of a monk. Beau’s head whipped around from the mirror to— to Yasha, she forced herself to think, inhabiting _her_ body. It had to be a trick.

“What happened?” Jester yelled as she rounded the corner, Veth hot on her heels. “We heard something explode. Beau, why are you on the floor?”

“Where’s the thing?” Veth demanded, crossbow in hand. “Oh, I _knew_ we shouldn’t have kept it here.”

Beau and Yasha stared at each other. Stared at the beacon thing on the floor. Stared at their friends.

“You guys?” Jester asked again, eyes darting back and forth between Beau and Yasha. It would have been comical if the situation weren’t so goddamned frightening.

“Um,” Beau said intelligently. “I think it— switched us?”

“What?” Fjord’s face twisted in confusion— then comprehension. “Like you’re...Beau,” he said, pointing at what would have looked like Yasha’s body. “Did it just make you _look_ like each other? Or—” Fjord made a strangled noise. “Is this, uh, a _soul_ thing, or—”

“We’ll have to find Essek and ask,” Caleb cut in, now carefully picking up the dormant relic with a swathe of fabric and a look of guilt.

“Everybody alright?” Caduceus asked, his staff at hand despite the fact that he was now in soft house clothes. “Anyone need healing?”

“I feel fine, Caduceus,” Yasha said, though she looked shaken. She carefully tucked a lock of brown hair that had fallen out of her topknot behind one ear as she climbed to her feet. Damn, Beau’s brain helpfully interjected, the crunches were worth it if it made her abs look that defined even when knocked ass over elbows. Nice.

The rest of the group simply stared at the two of them warily. Beau couldn’t keep her eyes off Yasha, searching for any tell that would reveal how to fix this.

Yasha didn’t seem quite as concerned, or perhaps was simply too distracted to think on it. “You’re so short,” she said in wonder, looking up at Beau. “Do you always have to crane your head up to look at me?”

“Yeah, I mean— sort of, but I don’t mind,” Beau said, feeling herself flush. “You’re nice to look at,” she said absently. “This is— weird, right?”

“Very,” Yasha admitted, nodding. Her expressions on Beau’s face were doing something weird to Beau’s emotions. She couldn’t place it yet; wasn’t sure if she wanted to, either.

“Well, let us contact our favorite Shadowhand and see what he makes of this,” Caleb said before Beau could think about it too hard.

Right. Magic bullshit. _New_ magic bullshit, but magic bullshit nonetheless.

“Hey, Essek, it’s Jester!” Jester said cheerfully as she crafted a Sending. “Small problem. A creepy orb exploded and Beau and Yasha switched bodies. Please help us fix them. Thank you very much!”

“Right on the money,” Fjord said approvingly.

After a second, Jester’s eyebrows knitted together as she reported, “He says he can’t do anything without looking at the actual thingy, and he can’t come himself because, you know,” she said, raising her eyebrows to indicate _wanted by the Brightqueen._ “But if we hand it over to someone in his den they might be able to figure it out. Only they’re all in bed for the night, so...”

“We can’t, oh, I don’t know, _wake someone up?”_ Fjord suggested.

“Maybe soul displacement isn’t a big deal for a society with a whole soul recycling program,” Veth suggested.

“Well, are they actually hurt?” Caduceus asked, looking over the two of them. “Are we in any immediate danger, or can we actually wait until tomorrow to figure this out?”

Beau inspected herself: barely even a scratch, though her tailbone would likely have a bruise from falling so hard.

“I’m a little sore from falling, but I’m okay,” Yasha confirmed.

“Caleb, you really didn’t see anything on it?” Beau asked again, crossing her arms. Fuck, Yasha was big. Her arms were so beefy. It felt kind of wrong to be touching her body like this, but what else was Beau supposed to do, T-pose the entirety of her time like this? At least Yasha looked no less uncomfortable. She kept fidgeting in a _very_ un-monk like way, likely unused to how agile and light her body was. It was kind of cute. Was it weird to find her own body cute? Or was it just Yasha being in her body that _made_ it cute?

 _“Nein,”_ Caleb said, shaking his head. “Nothing. Whatever charge it was holding has been spent.”

Hm. Weird.

“Well,” Beau said reluctantly. “We’re... _probably_ fine for now?”

“I don’t _feel_ like I’m going to die immediately,” Yasha agreed. Beau decided not to think about the fact that neither of them had thought the thing looked evil, either.

“Then...tomorrow,” Caleb said decisively. “We will find an authority in the morning, and for now, you two should stay close, in case there are any other magical hijinks, and, ah, keep an eye on each other.”

The nerves in the room seemed to dissipate as they formed their plan. The group started to disperse, each person looking warily at Beau and Yasha as they left to prepare for the next day.

Slowly, Beau let her shoulders relax and her crossed arms uncross. “Sorry,” she muttered when they were finally alone, dragging a nervous hand through her hair.

“For what?” Yasha asked. Shit, she looked so _small,_ Beau thought. Though she still had the muscles and she could definitely still kick ass. Probably.

“For—” Beau waved her hand. “Touching damn thing, you know? I feel like you should be mad at me.”

“I’m not, though,” Yasha said. “I touched it too. Oh! Wait, uh--” She cleared her throat, stalking over to Beau with an exaggerated swagger, slowly swinging her arm in a heavily-telegraphed punch. She beamed at Beau as her fist made gentle contact against one bicep, her expression shit-eating. “Pop-pop, bitch.”

Immediately, all Beau’s nerves and guilt evaporated. She grinned. “Alright, not bad for a rookie, but you’ll have to try harder than that if you want to take down a barbarian.” She cocked her head as a thought occurred to her. “I wonder if we could still fight like this. Do you know how to do a backflip?”

“No?” Yasha said after a moment of thought. “Do you know how to use a sword?”

“Nope,” Beau said with a grin, popping the last syllable. “Want to try fighting anyway?”

It didn’t seem to matter anymore that everyone else was getting ready for bed or that they had only just returned home from a grueling trip. Fueled by nerves and giddy excitement of trying something new, the two of them rushed into the training room, giggling as they awkwardly maneuvered their unfamiliar bodies.

“Okay,” Beau said, shucking Yasha’s heavy overcoat. “So your whole body is legally classified as a weapon right now— don’t flex too hard or you’ll give yourself a black eye. And maybe don’t punch me full force or you won’t have a body to come back to.”

“Alright, but—” Yasha stopped her train of thought and laughed. “I was going to say be careful with Skingorger, but now I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t use it at all.”

“Good point,” Beau said, thinking. “I’d probably end up with it stuck in a wall or something.”

“When I’m using it the ‘ _or something’_ is usually a body,” Yasha pointed out.

“Hand-to-hand, then?” Beau asked with a grin. She sunk her body into a defensive stance. It was familiar, though her body felt clunky and slow in comparison to its usual lean tension.

“Alright!” Yasha returned. She crouched down, arms out wide in a gorilla-like squat, ready to leap into action. Beau realized she’d only rarely seen Yasha in unarmed combat— she looked like a wrestler ready to launch face-first.

They stared, circling each other, grinning like loons. Always one to use the element of surprise, Beau launched herself first, kicking out with one foot to try and catch Yasha in the side; but she was slower than she was used to, her center of gravity not where it was supposed to be— the kick fell wide as Yasha quickly scuttled out of the way.

Not to be outdone, Yasha launched herself at Beau’s back with a yell, tackling her in a tight grapple that looked like it was _meant_ to knock her to the ground. Instead Beau wobbled but stayed upright, laughing loudly when she realized her face was in what was supposed to be her own armpit.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s gross!” she groused, though she cackled as she grabbed Yasha around the waist and thoroughly ripped her off her torso. She chucked Yasha across the room. Seemingly on instinct Yasha rolled, tumbling until she popped back up to her feet with a sweaty grin.

They circled each other again before tangling once more. All of Beau’s punches were knocked away, Yasha’s eyes lighting up as she realized just how quick and light her body was now. They got more creative as they traded blows: Beau suddenly understood Yasha’s instinct to stay low, as the more she crouched the easier it was to stay upright when Yasha launched bodily at her.

They rolled around on the stone floor of the training room for long minutes, giggling and slapping at each other half-heartedly. Neither _really_ wanted to do any damage, but it was fun to see just what they could do like this. But the day’s travel caught up to them soon enough, until they lay panting on the floor side by side, Yasha’s foot prodding Beau’s thigh.

“That was fun,” Yasha said with a satisfied sigh. “Why don’t we do that more often?”

“Because we never have time?” Beau suggested. “We’re, like, _always_ fighting for our lives, no time to just hang out.”

“I missed just hanging out,” Yasha said, sighing again. “Remember that time we all went to the spa together?”

“Feels like a million lifetimes ago,” Beau said wistfully, thinking of Mollymauk splashing in the bath with all of them. And then...herself. Now. “I don’t know about you, but I was kinda, uh, _ripe_ before this—” She waved her hand between them. “--whole thing. Sorry about the armpit funk.”

“Don’t say sorry to _me,”_ Yasha said with a laugh. “It was _your_ face in this armpit.” And then silence as Yasha seemed to get shy. “We could...take a bath?” she suggested slowly, the words tripping off her tongue like she wasn’t sure she should say them. “It would be nice to go to bed _not_ covered in dirt.”

“That wouldn’t be weird?” Beau asked hesitantly, sitting up to peer at Yasha next to her. “I don’t want to, like, _take advantage_ or whatever.”

Yasha shrugged. “Like Caleb said— we can keep an eye on each other. It’s not like we haven’t bathed together before.”

She had a point, though Beau’s brain helpfully reminded her that a group bath with the entire Nein was a little bit different than an intimate bath with just two people in the wrong bodies in the tub together.

The next several minutes were a blur of nerves as the two of them readied the bath and began to disrobe. Distantly Beau thought that it should have been awkward— but the steam and heat made things simpler. There was a business-like air to the bath. They were there for a purpose: get in, get clean, no funny business.

“Ugh, you’re so big,” Beau grumbled as she rubbed a soapy loofah over her shoulders. She shoved a lock of damp hair out of her face. “How do you wash all this hair? I’d have cut it by now.”

“It’s a process,” Yasha said with a shrug. “Is it, er…” she fumbled for her words, gesturing awkwardly at her chest and the jewelry there that twinkled in the dim lights. “Do I need to do anything special to clean these?”

“What, my piercings? Nah, just, uh, soap em up a little,” Beau said. She definitely did _not_ squeak at the sight of Yasha soapily tweaking her own nipples, each brown nub hardening under her fingers.

“Oh!” Yasha inhaled sharply in surprise. “That's...different.”

“Yup,” Beau croaked, voice cracking “It’s, uh...part of why I got them.”

“That’s nice,” Yasha said approvingly. “You don’t have to do it today, but, um. If we get stuck for too long…”

“Yeah?” Beau asked, rinsing her face. Yasha’s skin was so smooth it was kind of freaky. Must have been an aasimar thing. Beau was used to feeling the ridges of her scars whenever she touched her own cheeks, and her actual skin was thicker than Yasha’s.

“My, um, my wings…” Yasha hesitated even though she kept moving, soaping up her shoulders and scrubbing at her pits. “Sometimes they need some preening, you know, since I got them back, and the feathers need to be combed through so any bent ones get removed, and the oils are spread out...”

“That’s a thing? I hardly ever see them, though.”

“They’re kind in a, um, a pocket dimension? I mean, I don’t have to comb them _every_ time, but sometimes they need, just, a little extra care, you know? And I missed doing it for so long…”

“No, I’ve got you,” Beau said, her expression softening. She could do this for Yasha, perhaps as an apology for getting them into this in the first place. “Just show me how and I’ll do it.” She hesitated. “I can do that for you when I’m back in my body too, if you want? It seems like it might be kind of hard to reach all of it yourself?”

“That would be nice,” Yasha murmured. Was it Beau’s imagination, or were her cheeks darkening? It must have been the heat of the bath. “I can show you how it should feel now, and then you’ll know how to do it when you’re back in your own body?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Beau swallowed thickly. “How do I make them come out?”

Yasha peered up at her. Fuck, Beau realized, like this she was _really_ tall. At least this was a good angle for her from here. It kind of made her want to squish Yasha a little bit. It would probably feel amazing.

“Just, erm, flex a little and think about it? They won’t be out long.”

Beau did. And for a brief moment and a shock of light, she knew what it was like to have two extra limbs. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to describe how it felt, except that it felt _right._ It felt natural. She flexed them gently, splashing a bit. “Holy shit, that’s cool.”

But there was no time to waste. She turned around. Yasha finger-combed her way through the feathers, massaging from a well-hidden oil gland at the base of the wing outward. She picked out a few loose feathers and held them up to show Beau where they were bent or mussed before setting them aside for Caleb in case they were any use.

Yasha’s hands were so small like this, but firm and calloused, and it felt weirdly good to have her hands on Beau’s wings. And she was so _small._ Was Beau’s body _actually_ that small, or was Yasha just big? Had her eyes always been so bright? Was it narcissistic to be a little in love with your own body? Except the way Yasha wore Beau’s skin made something about it softer; it rounded out the edges, the slowness of her movements lacking the tension Beau felt at all times. It was like looking in the mirror at your more attractive twin.

And then the wings were gone, and the moment with it.

“I…” Beau hesitated, biting her lip. “Thank you. That felt really good.”

“It usually does,” Yasha said with a sweet smile.

Beau turned away, feeling herself flush pink. How often had she wished to see that look on Yasha’s face, only to see the tender happiness now on her _own_ rough mug, unfamiliar and strange? Beau bit her lip nervously.

“I feel like I should show you something, too?” Beau admitted after a minute. “I mean, I— it’s not the same as _wings_ or anything, I but… it feels good?”

“Okay, show me,” Yasha encouraged her.

Beau reached up, caressing up the side of Yasha’s neck. Up to her undercut, where Beau dragged her filed nails along the shorn side of Yasha’s scalp. Yasha shivered, her eyes dropping closed.

“Oh,” Yasha breathed, shivering a little and leaning into her touch. “That’s— hmm.”

“Uh-huh,” Beau said absently, tangling her delicate, long fingers through Yasha’s hair the way she knew she liked it, and then—

“Oh!” Yasha moaned as Beau yanked on her topknot, jerking her head back and holding it there, the continued tension, Beau knew, just hard enough to knock a few stars loose from the ceiling. “That’s, oh, nnh—”

Beau let go, grinning as Yasha took deep, gulping breaths and tried to collect herself. “And now you know how to do that for me when you’re back in your body,” she said, unconsciously mirroring Yasha’s phrasing from before. “I mean, uh— “ she spluttered a little over her wording. “If you want to, I mean—”

“Right!” Yasha said, quickly collecting the random loose bits of hair back up into her tie. “Yes. Um. Washing. We should be washing.”

A few more seconds of splashing. Awkward. Why had she done that? Stupid. Stupid magic bullshit.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did that again,” Yasha said not quite casually as she scrubbed herself perhaps harder than necessary.

Wait, what? “Did, uh-?” Beau asked intelligently, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“I mean. It’s your body. You know what feels good for it.”

“Yeah?” Beau squeaked. “I mean.” She cleared her throat. “Obviously. You do too. For yours.”

“Yeah.” Yasha was quiet for a further minute, clearly trying to organize her thoughts. “I kind of want to know what other things your body likes. Is that weird?”

“Nope!” Beau squeaked again. The war paint had been washed off by now. There was no way to hide the way all the blood was rushing to her face.

“Will you show me what you like?”

Beau splashed over to her in the center of the room. God, they really needed to get better light down here. The bioluminescent fungi and the crystals were nice, but they weren’t exactly bright. Made for killer romantic lighting, though, she had to admit.

It would be too weird to kiss herself. She knew that deep in her soul. No matter how much Yasha’s expression was clearly _her_ coming through, not just Beau’s face plastered over it. The minute movement of her eyes, the way she bit her lip...Beau leaned in, then took a deep breath and skated past Yasha’s face, instead planting on her shoulder.

Beau carefully rested her hands on Yasha’s hips. She had to duck down a little so she could reach. They were both slippery from soap, and it was easy to rub her hands over Yasha’s leanly muscled body, to admire her own muscles from this strange point of view. She mouthed over Yasha’s shoulder— laughed when Yasha shivered and pressed into her, tilting her head to the side.

“So obviously you’ve noticed my neck is sensitive,” Beau murmured in her ear. She slid one hand up along the lean line of her torso, tweaking a pert nipple as she went, flicking the barbel running through it. “And those.”

“Uh-huh…” Yasha said dreamily, leaning into Beau’s bulk.

“And this might just be, like, my brain making it really great, but…” Beau reached down, her heart pounding like a battle drum and she slid wet fingers between Yasha’s thighs. Now this was familiar territory, albeit from a new angle. “I _really_ like it when people, uh—” She pressed the heel of her hand against Yasha’s groin, through the fine hair to grind insistently against her clit, alternating force and movement.

“Oh,” Yasha groaned, stumbling slightly as her legs gave out. Beau crushed their bodies together last minute so she didn’t just fall into the water.

“How about you sit down on the edge and I, uh, I just—” She gestured, twirling her fingers vaguely. “You know?”

“Yeah, uh, alright,” Yasha said, hauling up onto the wide lip of the stone tub. It was a solid seat at least, and she could still keep her feet in the steaming water if she wanted to.

It felt a little narcissistic to be staring hungrily at her own naked body, but it was also incredibly hot to be reading all the body language Beau had felt but never seen that showed how turned on she was. She knew, in the logical part of her brain, that Yasha’s nipples were rock hard right now from how the points of the metal sat in them; she knew what that flush along her neck felt like when it heated her whole chest; hell, she knew what that particular _squirm_ meant for her clit throbbing between her thighs.

It was hot, plain and simple, and when had Beau ever turned down an opportunity to get in bed (or bath) with a hot girl? So what if she was in the hot girl’s body at the time? Was she not allowed to just enjoy things?

Beau was used to being the strong one in a relationship. She was only 5’4”, but she was tough, lean, with power beyond just what her physical form would suggest. But the body she was in now was strong in a different way: she was larger, tall and thick, and though she was slower the swing of her limbs had a meaningful weight behind them. It was gratifying to be able to kneel in the water and still be almost of a height with Yasha’s seated form. It was exciting to take her own large hands and pry Yasha’s knees apart, meeting her own blue gaze and reading the anticipation in it.

“You good?” Beau asked with a nervous little grin. “‘Cause, uh, I am, and…”

“Very,” Yasha breathed. She reached out, running her fingers through Beau’s long hair, combing damp strands away from her face. _“So_ good.”

Beau leaned in, kissing Yasha’s chest. Beau knew each and every one of the scars on that body intimately— knew that this one was numb, knew that this one was sensitive almost to the point of pain, knew that firm fingers running over the one on her ribs would make her shiver, back taut. She laughed, mouthing at Yasha’s brown nipples, pulling one gently into her mouth. This peaked, it would hurt if she nipped too hard, but if she wiggled the piercing with her tongue—

“Ohh,” Yasha sighed with a great gust of breath, her thighs squeezing suddenly around Beau’s torso. “That’s— _yes_.” Her hands tightened in Beau’s hair, yanking the strands a little bit as she pulled her closer.

Beau reached between Yasha’s legs again, rubbing the short hair there, downy brown and fine, curling from the bathwater. She leaned closer. Kissed down Yasha’s chest, her lean belly and the hard muscles that jumped under her lips.

Peering up at her from this angle was odd, but Beau could smell her arousal from this close. It mingled with the herbal, soapy aroma of the whole room, the wood-and-dirt of the tree’s roots coming through, the wet stone of the bath itself. The musk of it made her mouth water— so she looked up once at Yasha’ gleaming eyes and leaned in, parting her lips to draw her tongue over the wet seam of her.

Beau sighed. The tang, familiar and strange at once. The salt of sweat, the neutrality of bathwater. She flicked her tongue over the hot jut of Yasha’s clit, laughing gently when it made Yasha’s thighs clench around her head again.

“Careful,” Beau reminded her with a goofy grin. “I can crush melons with those things. Try not to crack my skull like an egg.”

“Right,” Yasha said with a shuddering sigh, relaxing her thighs minutely. Her face was a dark maroon, the color so deep that Beau knew it must have felt like she had lava running through her veins. Her hands clenched on the stone lip of the tub, knuckles pale.

Beau leaned in again to get back to work. She knew what that body liked. She knew that large hands on her thighs holding her in place would _do things,_ so she gripped Yasha’s knees and held her open while she ate her out with all the enthusiasm of a starving man at a buffet. It was easy to get into the action of it, to close her eyes and picture Yasha under her, in her own body, soft and wet and hot as the burn of fire magic against her tongue. It was easy to slip one hand up to squeeze a small breast, tweaking a nipple piercing just to hear the breathy “Ah—!” it elicited.

It was easy to get lost in the heat and damp and the dark privacy of thighs around her ears, the faint stretch in her jaw, the burn of a building cramp as her tongue worked, swirling around and around, lips pursed to pull on labia and suck on Yasha’s clit. It was easy to slip two fingers between her lips to push inside and curl up against the rough upper wall of her cunt, putting the pressure just where she knew from experience it would hit just right.

Yasha moaned, and gasped, and let her breath hitch when Beau did something particularly good. Sweat rolled down her body, leaving her gleaming, and ah, wasn’t _that_ a sight?

It was _easy_ not to think about how strange it all was, objectively— easy to laugh and moan and whine an “ _mm-hmm—_ ” when Yasha’s fingers tightened in her hair, pulling hard as her hips jerked under Beau’s mouth, her clit throbbing against Beau’s tongue.

Yasha gasped, head thrown back. Beau dazedly looked up at the long column of Yasha’s throat as she continued to pet her through the aftershocks, withdrawing her fingers carefully and idly licking them clean.

It was even easy to forget about her own needs— about the heat, the blood rushing between her thighs. The bath’s nearly-scalding water seemed to make it irrelevant. Her blood rushed hotly all over, her face flushed and shining with sweat and steam.

She drew back at last, leaning her flushed cheek on Yasha’s lean thigh and looking up at her dopily. Yasha still pet through her hair, and the scratch was soothing, the caress tender and slow as Yasha took a long minute to come back to herself.

“Well!” Yasha laughed after a moment. “That was— wow.”

“That good, huh?” Beau said, wiping her chin with one swipe of her thumb.

“Yes,” Yasha said sincerely. “I can— if you want?” She gestured vaguely, but the meaning was clear.

Beau stood, and _gods_ but it was intoxicating to literally loom over another person like this. She’d miss the height when she was back in her own body, among other things. She shivered when Yasha reached out to squeeze her hip— Yasha was muscled, but soft as well, her curves padding out the thick layer of muscle that covered her body. It felt good to be squished a bit, to feel tough, calloused hands over the smooth skin of her hip, pulling her in like a force of gravity.

“Your turn,” Yasha half-sung, smiling sweetly as she pulled Beau against her. “You said you like—?” One hand slipped off Beau’s hip, scratching over coarse curls to slide between her thighs, grinding the heel of her hand against Beau’s groin. “And I know what _I_ like…”

Beau bit her lip as Yasha stood, pressing one lean thigh between Beau’s own. Had their height difference always been this extreme? Beau leaned down, the wet curtain of her hair shielding them from the dim lights. Their faces were so close that Beau could feel Yasha’s breath on her own lips, the puff of air soft and warm. Would it be so bad to—?

But Yasha ducked down, licking over Beau’s neck instead, sucking a mark into the junction of shoulder and throat.

“Oh,” Beau breathed, her hands tightening on Yasha’s back. “That’s— yeah, holy crap.”

She realized Yasha was giving her something to grind on, rocking against the hard thigh between her legs. Beau pushed her back towards the edge of the tub she’d been seated on before, nearly sitting on her, and oh, crap, she felt like she was gonna crush her like this but Yasha just held her in place, squeezing her ample ass and urging her to rock against her.

Water splashed around them as Beau ground down on Yasha’s thigh, using the pressure to rock until she felt an orgasm sneak up on her from out of nowhere. It had been creeping up on her for ages, it felt like, pushing her off the cliff to dive straight into euphoria as Beau clutched Yasha close and rocked their bodies against each other, her back arching sharply as she peaked.

Long minutes passed where the two of them simply stayed like that, half in and half out of the water, breathing raggedly, foreheads pressed to shoulders. Condensed steam dripped down the walls and off the roots of the tree above them, gentle _plips_ as the droplets fell to the tub or the damp floor.

At last, Beau raised her head, swiping wet curls out of her face and then laughing, the tension in her chest releasing all at once. She reluctantly pulled away from Yasha’s embrace, stretching and then settling back down in the water.

“That definitely puts new meaning to the phrase ‘feeling yourself,’” she mused wryly.

“It certainly does,” Yasha agreed with a giggle. She smiled at Beau, open and unashamed— though a little shy, ducking her head and turning away for a moment. Without thinking Beau reached out and squeezed her hand— and oh, her hand was so _small._ Of all the things they’d just done, that was what jolted Beau out of the strange placidity she’d had before. She missed her own body. She wanted to feel Yasha’s big hand on her own. She wanted to be crushed against her broad torso, her soft hips.

“Hey, Yash?” Beau asked, her voice wavering a little. She felt her chest constrict painfully, felt tears prickle at her eyes. _Fuck magic bullshit._

“Yeah, Beau?” Yasha asked.

“What are we gonna do if we stay stuck like this?”

Yasha’s expression turned forlorn. She stared down into the bathwater as if searching its soapy depths for answers. “I don’t really know.”

Beau fought a sniffle, willing away the anxious tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’d probably have to teach you how to punch ghosts.”

Yasha’s smile was a little teary as well. “I’d probably have to teach you how to hold my sword.”

“Oh, I’ll _hold your sword,”_ Beau retorted half-heartedly, laughing weakly. She reached out with her other hand to caress Yasha’s face— her own face, the doubt and fear on its countenance more familiar than any other expression.

“Hey, Beau?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” Yasha hesitated, looking nervous. “Only I’d really like to, and we didn’t get to before, uh…”

“You don’t think it would be weird?” Beau asked, feeling her face twist even as it burned hotly.

“More weird than going down on yourself?” Yasha pointed out.

“Oh, for— c’mere,” Beau said at last, tugging Yasha to sit in her lap.

And then they were pressed body to body, smiling lips pressed to smiling lips, a warm breath shared as they laughed at themselves, the situation, the strange things their adventuring group got into—

And there was a flash of energy again, water sloshing over the lip of the tub like miniature tidal waves as magic ran through their bodies.

When Beau opened her eyes again, it was to a mismatched pair of seafoam green and violet blinking back at her.

Fucking. Magic. Bullshit.

“Oh!” Yasha said, blinking in surprise. And it came from the correct mouth, from her soft face, her full lips breaking into a smile, and _Ah,_ Beau thought, _there goes the light flashing through her eyes bright as heat lightning in the distance— I missed that._

“Was that it? Was that all we had to do?”

\--

“What was on it?” Beau asked the next day, when they were finally able to hand the glass relic off to a specialist. “What made us switch— and why did it change us back when we…?”

“Got busy?” Veth suggested, waggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off,” Beau muttered through a blush, though she let herself grin a little bit when Yasha squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“It _must_ have been true love’s kiss,” Jester insisted, eyes wide in awe.

“Not true love’s kiss, but a binding one,” the bespectacled drow they’d brought the relic to clarified. “It was likely some sort of way to make sure the parties actually kept the contract until the alliance was, er...consummated.”

“Weird ancient sex magic,” Beau said, nodding. “Why didn’t we figure that out sooner? It feels like _every_ ancient ruin we go into at this point has weird sex magic somewhere.”

“In any case, thank you for bringing it to Den Thelyss,” the drow said primly, tucking the relic away. “Now please leave.”

\--

Later, Beau sat with Yasha in their kitchen, a pot of tea between them.

“Should we talk about it?” she asked carefully, her fingers tapping nervously on her mug.

“If you want to,” Yasha said. Her brows drew down in concentration as she sat up straight in her seat, mouth a moue of determination. “But I already know what I want to say.”

“Oh,” Beau stuttered, suddenly unsure.

“I want to kiss you again. With my _own_ mouth,” she emphasized, as if she needed to clarify.

“I’d like that,” Beau said, mouth splitting into a grin. She sipped at her tea, but let one hand reach across the table to tangle fingers with Yasha’s— and it was every bit as nice as she’d hoped, Yasha’s long fingers cool against hers, her rough palm almost dwarfing Beau’s own.

Magic bullshit wasn’t _all_ bad, she supposed.

**Author's Note:**

> I can also be found on Twitter! [@GoInterrobang](twitter.com/GoInterrobang)


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